Booked
by Dreamin
Summary: Sherlolly AU: Writer Sherlock and editor Molly find themselves having to share a single bed during a book tour.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Based on a prompt from welcometonightcourt: "writer/editor au."

* * *

They were in her office, in the middle of one of their usual debates over his manuscript and her edits.

"You do know what spell-check is for, right?" Molly Hooper asked, annoyed, as she found yet another misspelled word.

Sherlock Holmes huffed in annoyance. "I get my point across."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, once I've corrected, finessed, and reorganized everything you've written." She scowled then circled a multi-hyphenated word cluster in red ink. "This needs commas, not hyphens."

He glanced at the page. "'Cocksucking-arsekissing-bootlicking-turd' is one word."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, if you're twelve."

"Ahem," said an amused female voice from the doorway.

Both of them looked up to see Irene Adler, Molly's boss and the owner of TWH Publishing, standing there, smirking.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, though it was plain from her tone and grin that she wasn't sorry at all, "but I need to steal Sherlock for a photo shoot."

 _Another one?_ Molly thought. _He's an author, not an actor._ "We're in the middle of a chapter, Irene. Can't it wait?"

"Nope, sorry." Irene's grin widened. "Come along, Sherlock. We mustn't disappoint your fans."

Sherlock shot Molly a grin that was truly apologetic as he stood up. "Duty calls. Same time tomorrow?"

Molly stood up. "Sure. Maybe by quitting time we'll be done with Chapter Two."

He chuckled. "That's the spirit." Sherlock grabbed his Belstaff. "Laters." He left and Molly willed herself not to check out his bum.

Two hours later, Irene came back alone and looking quite pleased with herself. "Mmm, it was such a good idea of mine to put his photo on the back covers. Sales went up 25% when that started, you know."

"I know," Molly reminded her. "Really, Irene, did you have to grab him just then? We were making headway."

"Strike while the iron is hot, I always say. He looked particularly delicious today, I knew it would be perfect." She sat down in the chair Sherlock had occupied, grinning. "I'm toying with the idea of asking him to model for one of the romance novel covers. With me as the female lead, of course."

"Of course," Molly muttered, rolling her eyes. "I really should get back to these edits."

"You don't meet many men like him," Irene continued. "Gorgeous, intelligent."

"Prickly."

Irene smirked. "If by 'prickly,' you mean 'has a big prick,' then yes."

Molly rolled her eyes again. "Like you'd know. He's turned you down every time you've asked him out."

"It never hurts to keep trying. I'll wear him down eventually." She grinned wickedly. "Then I'll wear him out."

Molly ignored the jealousy that sprang up over the idea of Irene and Sherlock shagging. "I seriously doubt he'd agree to be a cover model. He won't even do book signings."

Irene snapped her fingers. "I knew there was something I wanted to talk to you about. His fans are clamoring for a tour."

"I can safely say he'd see that as his own personal hell."

"Doesn't matter, sales go up whenever an author goes on a book signing tour. Do whatever you have to, but you need to convince him. I'll make all the arrangements."

"Irene…"

"If you don't, I can always find someone else to edit Sherlock's books. Anderson in particular is clamoring for your position."

"Anderson doesn't know an interrobang from a hole in the ground. Sherlock would eat him alive."

Irene smirked. "Then you'd better get Sherlock to agree."

* * *

The next day, they were having lunch in Molly's office when she approached the subject. "Sherlock … Irene wants you to go on a book signing tour."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Can't I just do another podcast or something?"

She smiled sympathetically. "Sorry, the fans want more. It's just a couple of, um, weeks. In the States. With Irene."

"Absolutely not."

Molly couldn't help smirking. "Which part?"

"All of it. I'm not spending a fortnight doing something I hate so far from … London with a person I despise."

"Irene's not that bad."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You can speak freely, you know – I doubt she bugged your office."

"Fine. Irene's trouble but she knows what she's doing. You're the most popular detective novelist alive. While that's mostly because your talent, you have to admit she knows how to market you."

"You and I both know this is just one more chance for her to … compromise my virtue."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "When did you start reading romance novels? Anyway, she promised me she's booking you separate rooms."

"I don't trust her."

 _Smart man._ "Then why are you still with us? TWH is far from the only publishing house in London."

"Let's just say that it's not only my contract that's keeping me here." Before she could parse what he meant by that, he added with a smirk, "Besides, it seems I have a reputation for being 'difficult.'"

"Can't imagine where anyone would get that idea," she said, smirking back. "I'm asking you to do this as a personal favor to me."

Sherlock's eyes lit up as he grinned. "And I may ask a favor in return at some point?"

"Of course, that's how favors work."

"Very well."

Molly wondered what her favorite author had up his sleeve, but she decided she'd rather watch from the sidelines.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning that Sherlock and Irene were supposed to fly to New York, Molly woke at an ungodly hour to the sound of her mobile ringing.

"Hello?" she answered sleepily, not even bothering to see who the caller was.

"Thank goodness I caught you," Irene croaked.

Molly sat up, concerned. "Irene? You sound horrible."

"I swear I've got Martian death flu."

Molly rolled her eyes at Irene's hyperbole. "It can't be that bad."

"Oh yes it can. I'm not going. You're taking my place."

"What?!"

"I've already rebooked the flights under your name and I'm relieving you of your other duties for the next fortnight. Think of it as a working holiday."

"Irene…"

"Before I forget, I may have booked only one room in each hotel."

Molly stared at her mobile then brought it back to her face. "You really were trying to seduce Sherlock, weren't you?"

"Guilty. I'm sure you two can work something out. I'll resume my advances when you get back."

 _Hope springs eternal._ "Irene…"

"You can thank me later." She hung up.

Molly stared at her phone again then glanced at the alarm clock. _The flight leaves in a few hours!_ "Shit!" She scrambled out of bed then started packing.

* * *

 _Oh thank God_ , Sherlock thought as he saw his editor walking towards him, a large airport coffee in hand. He'd been waiting for Irene at their gate when he got a text from her.

 **Sorry, deathly ill. I'm sending a replacement. Irene**

Being scared to death the replacement was Anderson, he internally jumped for joy when he saw Molly. He clamped down on that feeling when he realized he'd have to spend the next fortnight in close proximity of the woman he was madly in love with but refused to admit.

 _Bloody hell…_

"Hi, Sherlock," Molly said, her spirits almost cheerful. "Surprise."

"Erm, yes, it is." He smiled a bit. "Do you think Irene is truly ill?"

She smiled back. "You know she was planning on seducing you during this trip. She wouldn't give up that chance for anything less than the Plague, which she apparently has."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "How many times must I tell her I'm not interested?"

"At least one more, I'd wager."

"Right." He offered her the seat next to the one he'd been sitting in and they both sat down. "I hope Irene's scheme didn't upset any plans you had."

Molly shrugged. "You know me – no life outside of work."

Sherlock smiled a bit. "Perhaps we can change that while we're in the States."

* * *

Molly's conscience nagged her to tell Sherlock about the single hotel room the entire flight to New York but she just couldn't do it. _He's not going to like it one bit and I don't want him blaming me._

Just as she thought, he went stock still when the woman at the front desk told them the reservation was for one room. When he got over his shock enough to ask if they could get a second room, she told him they were completely full.

Molly took a deep breath then said gently, "It's alright, Sherlock. We'll manage."

He looked at her dubiously then finally nodded.

When they were left alone in their suite, Molly let out a sigh of relief when she looked through the open door to the bedroom _. A king bed, thank God. I can do this._

She could feel the heat coming off Sherlock's body as he stood behind her. "At least Irene has some sense."

Molly suppressed a shiver. "I … was just thinking the same thing."

"Is that so, Molly?" he murmured in her ear.

She swallowed hard, the sound of his voice reverberating through her. "Actually … I was thinking about a nap."

Sherlock chuckled, hopefully not over her bad attempt at lying. "It's the jet lag. Don't make it too long or you'll never sleep tonight."

"Um, right." Despite every fiber of her being telling her not to, she turned to look at him. _He is so gorgeous, it's just unfair._

He grinned at her, making himself even more gorgeous. "I was going to explore the New York Public Library."

She nodded. "Have fun."

His grin widened. "You too." He winked at her.

Molly could feel her cheeks reddening. "Um, thanks." _Oh God, he thinks I'm going to touch myself while he's gone_. A voice that sounded a lot like Irene added, _Considering how good he looks, sounds, smells … that's not a bad idea._

Escaping to the en suite was her best option. Thankfully, she still had enough presence of mind to grab the turquoise blue satin and lace cami and matching shorts set she'd brought to sleep in. Not that Sherlock's going to notice. He never notices anything I wear.

That thought was enough to settle her hormones. A quick change then she was in bed, the lights off and the curtains drawn tightly closed against the early afternoon sunlight. Molly was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

When she woke a couple of hours later, she realized she wasn't alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock wandered the New York Public Library as he tried, truly tried to focus on something, anything besides the thought of the woman he loved in their hotel room without him. _Why can't I just admit to her that I'm in love with her? What's stopping me?_

 _Nothing,_ he realized. _Absolutely nothing._ Galvanized, he left the library then walked back to their hotel. Finding Molly asleep made him want to join her, and the creeping jet lag didn't help. Stripping down to his pants, he gingerly climbed into bed next to her. He watched her for a moment then reached out to lightly stroke her hair. She sighed in her sleep and Sherlock's arms ached to hold her. Deciding that touching a sleeping woman was ungentlemanly, he gave in to a sudden wave of fatigue and fell asleep.

"Um, Sherlock?"

He woke to find his nose buried in Molly's sweet-smelling hair, his arm around her, and his hand cupping her breast. _Oh shit…_ He slowly, reluctantly moved away. "Sorry."

She turned to face him, her cheeks flaming and she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "What was that about?" she whispered.

Sherlock smiled a bit. "You can speak up, Molly. No one's going to hear us unless we yell." _Or scream in pleasure, but something tells me that won't happen anytime soon._ "As to why I was touching you, it's hard to control your impulses when you're asleep."

Molly finally met his eyes, her own huge. "You're saying you wanted to touch me?"

"Yes," he murmured, "and not just because you're a warm body in bed with me." _We're here, I might as well go for it._ "I've wanted to touch you for a long time, Molly."

She quickly turned away then got out of bed, her voice quiet and hurt. "I can see there's no point in trying to talk to you, Sherlock. All you do is make jokes, and cruel ones at that."

"Jokes?" he asked, surprised. _I guess there's no hiding it now._ Throwing back the covers, he got out of bed then gently grabbed her upper arm and turned her to face him. "Does this," he gestured to the tent his cock was making in the front of his pants, "look like I'm joking?"

Molly stared at it, her cheeks flaming anew, then she raised her eyes to his. "But I thought … I thought…"

"You thought wrong," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her. "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you," he grinned, "and I've loved you since the first time you corrected my writing."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" she murmured as she returned his embrace.

"Several reasons, none of which are important right now." He pressed his forehead to hers, smiling a bit. "Is there something you wanted to tell me, Molly?"

She smirked. "Yes, you missed your latest deadline."

He chuckled as he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. "I was thinking something of a more … intimate nature."

"Mmm…" She tilted her head to give him better access. "Oh – your next royalty check is going to be huge."

Sherlock lifted his head to smirk at her. "That's not the only thing." He pressed his cock against her abdomen, delighting in her soft gasp. "Say it, Molly," he murmured.

"Say what?" she whispered, gazing up at him.

"Say you love me. Say you want me." He murmured in her ear, "Say you'll let me worship you the way a goddess made flesh deserves."

Molly shivered then she stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "I love you, Sherlock, more than I can say. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone. And I'll only let you worship me if I can worship you right back."

He grinned at her. "Deal." He quickly divested himself of his pants and her of her cami and shorts then he took a step back, just drinking her in. "You, Molly Hooper, are a work of art. Helen of Troy herself couldn't compare to you."

Molly giggled. "So, that makes mine the face that launched two thousand ships?"

"Mmm, more like the face that launched two thousand pricks. Or maybe just one prick, two thousand times."

"Sherlock!" She was pretending to be shocked but her eyes were dancing.

"What about me? Do I meet with your approval?" he asked, spreading his arms and turning in a slow circle.

Molly looked him over and he could see she was trying hard to keep a straight face. "I must say, Sherlock Holmes, you are the finest specimen of manhood I've ever seen." She reached out to grasp his cock in her strong, delicate hand as she murmured, "And your manhood is the finest specimen I've ever seen."

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan escaped him. "God, I love you…" he murmured breathlessly as she stroked him.

"I want to taste you," she murmured, her thumb rubbing the tip.

He moaned quietly then gently pulled her hand away and raised it to his lips, kissing her palm. "Next time, sweetheart. I can barely control myself as it is."

"There's going to be a next time?" she asked softly.

"I hope you're only asking that to be cute," he murmured, "because you should already know the answer."

* * *

Molly beamed at him. "Say it anyway."

"There are going to be many, many times after this," he murmured. "I plan to have you every moment I can while we're on this trip, then once we're back in London, I plan to ask you to move in with me."

She laughed softly. "You do realize you said that out loud, right?"

Sherlock smirked. "I know you hate surprises." He slowly ran his large hands up and down her sides, making her shiver. "Now," he murmured, "how do you want this?"

"From behind. But, um, don't pull my hair, I hate that."

"I wouldn't dream of causing you discomfort, Molly." He gestured to the bed.

Molly climbed onto the bed then got on her hands and knees, spreading her knees wide. She felt the mattress shift as Sherlock got on the bed then knelt behind her. His large hands roamed over the curves of her bum and hips and he murmured in appreciation.

"I'm clean," she said, "and I'm on the pill."

"I'm clean too. It's been … too many years to count since I was with someone, I never found sex as interesting or fulfilling as writing." He leaned over to softly kiss her shoulder blade.

"And now?" she murmured.

"Now," he said, positioning himself at her entrance, "I'm going to miss a few more deadlines." His tip slid into her dripping, aching cunt. "But I think my editor will forgive me."

Molly groaned quietly. "I'll forgive you even faster if you just shut up and fuck me…"

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am." He slid the rest of the way inside her, his long, thick cock stretching her like no man had before.

Clutching the sheet, she gasped in pleasure as he filled her completely. "Oh God, Sherlock…"

"Fuck, Molly," he gasped. "You were made for me. So tight, so wet…" He started to thrust slow and deep, his hands grasping her hips.

"Faster…" she murmured. "Harder…"

"As my lady commands," Sherlock murmured. He started to pound into her, the pleasure of it soon sending her over the edge.

He followed her a moment later, his shout loud enough that the people in the next room were knocking on the wall.

Molly grinned at him once she'd caught her breath. "Maybe we should be quieter next time."

Sherlock chuckled as he pulled out then laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Or, maybe we should be loud so often that they get used to it."

"I think that would be a good way to get us kicked out," she replied, giggling.

He grinned at her. "Shall we test that theory?"

"In a bit." She softly kissed his neck. "I'm going to need another fortnight off by the time we get back to London."

Sherlock grinned delightedly. "Mmm, sounds like a plan."


End file.
